Saving Cyrodííl
by AB vs Predator
Summary: In a post acocalyptic Cyrodííl, who ya gonna call? Chapter three is up, your galoshes should be on by now, because this one gets a little more violent.
1. Into the Fryer on a Frying Pan

**Introduction**

The Oblivion gates were closed, but at a high price.

The hero with Martin had been knocked out of action with a terrible disease called Corprus. He had to fight for his life for the duration of his sickness. Finally, a strong enough potion was made to supress the symptoms for a day. It was administered to him outside of the Imperial City. The hero, 48 guards, and Martin were able to batter their way into the Arcane University. An additional 16 hours were spent using powerful magicks on the hero, preparing him to be able to fight through the waves of daedra that had ravaged the city.

It made him incredibly strong, but only for another two hours. After that time was up he would die. It was a risky gamble, and nobody knew if he would stick to the plan. Another problem was even if he did stick to the plan, would it be enough? With a mighty effort, Martin and the Hero (along with the guards) were able to hack their way into the temple. However, Mehrunes Dagon had risen from the city while the hero was being blessed. His time was almost up, the Daedra prince's tangibility in the world almost becoming permanent. Martin gave his life to destroy Mehrunes Dagon, and the hero died not ten minutes afterwards.

Well now the Daedra still march through the countryside. Their leader, Menta Na, had agreed with the other nations of Tamriel that he would occupy only Cyrodiil if they wouldn't try to drive them out. This Article of Neutrality, as it was called, has been in effect for ten years. It has not been disobeyed by anyone.

* * *

**Chapter One: Into the fryer on a frying pan**

Dawn at Bravil brought a strange sight. Some Dremora mages were standing around a little cart filled up with..._something_. They put a scamp inside of the cart, pulled out some soul gems, and cracked them together like a toast over the scamp. Now the scamp began to glow, and the Dremora heaved the cart across the bridge.

A starving beggar was standing about 15 feet directly in front of the gate when it exploded. A giant section of the door slammed into him, killing him instantly. The two towers next to the gate crumbled and fell forward down the now bridge-less ravine and into the moat. Now Dremora began to pour out of the forest.

The siege of Bravil had begun.

The church bells clamored, screaming for help. A score of soldiers left the elven ruin turned-base nearby to see what was going on. An Imperial, Frederick Gein, was the captain of this squad.

Halfway to the city they were ambushed by ten Dremora, each wearing a Daedric cuirass, but otherwise relatively unarmored. The first soldier to go was an archer in the back, who was slashed across the belly with a longsword.

"_AMBUSH!_" the adjacent archer cried, dropping his bow and pulling out his dagger. A swordsman in front turned and slashed across the Dremora's arm, drawing his attention. The archer ran to catch it unaware when an ax was buried in his head. The first Dremora fell shortly afterwards, two swordsman ganging up on the wounded one, slicing off one arm and knocking him down. The swordsman dropped his shield and picked up the longsword. He was now dual-wielding.

In front, the soldiers were struggling with a few Dremora as the ones behind them were slowly being killed, one by one. The apparent leader of the attack was a tall xivilai. His face was almost purple in its strange blue and his nose was gnarled and bulbous. He carried a claymore. Next to Frederick Gein, a soldier fell after having a sword driven through his throat. The captain capitalized and cut off the Dremora's head as it began to yank its sword out. Milliseconds after decapitating the demon he was kicked in the side by the leader and sent sprawling.

"DIE." It rumbled.

"Over my dead body!" The captain screamed in panic, rolling out of the way of a downward swing by the terrible monster.

"Captain!" One of the lower-ranked soldiers sounded almost like he was pleading with the xivilai. As the devil turned to look at him the soldier swung his blade with all his force into the side of its body. His sword broke on the claymore, which had gotten in the way just in time. However, half the sword spun and caught in the side of the xivilai. After staring incredulously (_did you just hit me?_) and pulling out the blade, the monster smacked the soldier in the face with the flat of his claymore, knocking his helmet off and driving him into unconsciousness.

The dual-wielding swordsman tripped a Dremora and sliced its head clear in half before turning to see what was going on. An exceptionally big daedra was about to kill the captain, it seemed. But before he knew it, he was scraped across the side by a daedric warhammer, his cuirass shattering on the side and hanging off of him. He spun quickly, the first blade cutting the left arm of the monster, and the second being buried into it's right shoulder. A mighty kick would be what separated them, blood momentarily taking its opportunity to fly out and splash many a disgusted doughboy soldier. The men were, for the most part, inexperienced.

The xivilai headbutted the captain backwards into a tree, and thrust the claymore straight through him. Blood splashed in a geyser of ruby onto the demon. Frederick's hands went momentarily towards the sword before his arms and head sagged down. The captain was dead, and the xivilai knew it. It howled in evil victory.

Until an arrow worked its way roughly through it's disgusting head. The monster mewled like a dying dog, stumbling sideways several feet before falling down.

"That was the last one, I think." The soldier said just loud enough for himself to hear over the cries of his wounded friends.

Oreyn, the dual-swordsman, asked, "How many?"

"How many what?" The archer asked back.

"How many are hurt?" Oreyn yelled irritably.

"We've got about five dead, and...nine wounded." A nearby soldier with a relative grasp on restoration magic said.

"You'd might as well just make it six dead." The soldier he was helping said softly. He'd been cut to the bone on his thigh and had a dagger in his side.

"Is the captain dead?" Oreyn asked.

"Even the Nine couldn't bring him back, sir."

"Damn it! Somebody _get that sword out of him_... Something big is happening. Bravil's church bell is still ringing..." Oreyn listened to the bells, apparently trying to determine if he was imagining them. He decided he wasn't.

"Someone go check to see if Bravil is ok. But _don't be seen_."

Nobody moved.

"Alright, I'll go look. You bunch of cowards."

Oreyn came back about ten minutes later, and a couple of the injured were already able to stand on their own again. Nevertheless, Oreyn looked very grim.

"Bravil is under siege...it looks like the Daedra planned this one pretty big, there's a lot of them there." The Imperial stopped to look around, his steel cuirass glinting where there wasn't profuse amounts of blood smacked on. His eyes stopped on down the path, widening immensely.

"Troll. _Troll!_" He yelled. An archer turned in time to be leapt upon and clobbered. The swordsman nearest drove his blade through it's head.

"You ok?"

"God damn, that _hurt_."

"He's fine."

Later on, Oreyn was arguing with the leader of their base in the ruin, begging to get the whole group out of there so they could go to Skingrad and tell Caleb Cosades about the siege.

"With as many Daedra as you say we can't risk taking all of us out there."

"We can't just send one." Oreyn said.

"And why not?"

"Because if we just send one he'll get killed before he's even halfway there. Even if he does get past the Daedra around Bravil, there's still almost three-fourths of the trip left to do afterwards. Hell, even before the coming of Oblivion there was a chance that a soldier wouldn't make that trip because of trolls and ogres, not to mention bandits.

"We need to get aid. The Daedra are getting bold. And it looks like they've gotten their siege abilities down pretty well."

"Do you _remember_ how many people we lost trying just to get here?" The leader asked.

"Too many. But this is so important. You know as well as I do that there aren't many cities left. There's Bravil, Anvil, Skingrad, and Bruma. That's all. We never thought they'd be able to take the Imperial City, but three years ago they did. Ever since then we've been trying to hang onto what we have left. We can't just let another one go." Oreyn pleaded with his eyes now.

"Ok...We'll go a few hours after dark."


	2. A Helping Hand or Two

**Chapter Two: A Helping Hand or Two

* * *

**

"You're hurting my arm, dickhead." I growled at the guard dragging me along.

"Don't worry about it." He said reassuringly. Then he threw me into the room at the end of the hall.

I decided to take a seat. It was the least I could do for myself, because the rest of the room looked a little uncomfortable. Where did I get a crazy idea like that? Well when I hit the floor my face landed about two feet away from a mace just kind of lounging around. _Hi there._

"Well, you must be Garrett." The guy in the desk across from me said.

"You must be the asshole that woke me up." I replied. It's not even light out yet.

"Actually my friend Gordmon over there is the one who woke you up." Friggin' Orc. Of course I wouldn't be able to struggle.

"Well then, _what do you want_?"

"It's not what I want, Garrett, it's what we _all_ need. You're young," I'm twenty, "Do you remember what it was like before the Daedra came?"

"A lot better than it is now." That's all I could really remember.

"_A lot_ better." The guy agreed. Then he just sat there staring, like he was judging me.

"Who the hell are you?" I finally got curious enough to ask.

"I'm Caleb Cosades!"

"_You're_ Caleb Cosades? You gotta be kiddin' me." The leader of Cyrodííl's defense?

"I _am_ Caleb Cosades. And I need you, Garrett. I don't suppose you've heard anything about Bravil lately?"

"...The parties suck?"

"Word hasn't had time to spread, it seems. Yesterday morning an outpost, what was _left_ of an outpost, near Bravil showed up here. In Skingrad."

"What do they want? Better wine?"

"Bravil is under siege." Caleb's face grew grim as he said this. He wasn't joking.

"Their commander died on the way here, the ranking soldier was a guy named Oreyn Nervera. He told me that a veritable army of Daedra was attacking Bravil. 'It looks so serious' he told me, 'that it could possibly be lead by Menta Na himself.'"

"So what do you want me to do? Help you get the fuck outta Cyrodííl before they take over?"

"Quite the opposite my friend. You might actually be saving Cyrodííl." Caleb appeared to be serious after this, too. I got serious as well. I got serious about thinking he was out of his _fucking mind_.

"This was pretty funny and everything but I just don't think it's my type of party, you know?" I said, getting up. Gooey orc hands pushed be back into the chair.

"You'll follow our instructions closely." Was the only thing Caleb said before leaving the room.

* * *

"So, uh, you been in the service for long?" The moron of a partner I'd been assigned asked.

"No."

"How long have you—"

"Less than a day," I cut him off.

We're sneaking through the countryside down to Bravil. We'd each been given a bunch of potions to deal with enemies. An extremely powerful restore health potion, an all-attribute restoring potion in case we got some kind of curse, a potion to cure disease, and a potion to give us a strong chameleon effect.

_"What do you mean 'blend in with our natural surroundings'?_ _Does that mean if there's weird-colored, not-natural-looking goop laying around we won't blend in with it?_" I had asked, trying to piss them off.

_"No, you'd blend in with that._" The alchemist replied.

_"Cool, psychadelic warfare."_ I'd said, doing my best to sound like a complete idiot. They didn't go for it. Either that or they think I'm an idiot and are just plain desperate for help.

"Is that it?" The side-kick asked fearfully. Smoke was billowing up in a thick vortex from somewhere ahead.

"I think so."

We stood in silence before I heard something. My "partner" just stood there, I don't think he heard it.

"Well, listen, I think we should just make sure we don't get seen," I said quickly and slammed my chameleon potion. Then I ran like hell.

* * *

Wilbur, the oblivious team-mate, stood in the open, not hearing it until it was only a few feet away. When he turned around, a big blue ogre was standing there, and didn't look pleased. It cracked the knuckles of one it's colossal hands. Wilbur reached for the chameleon potion, but the blue blur (the things are faster than you might expect) smashed it into a bunch of sparkly little pieces.

The surprised human turned and ran, leaping almost ten feet into the air and onto a tree branch. The ogre stopped, contemplated what to do, and then threw all it's weight into one enormous punch, cracking the tree greatly and knocking the dude back onto the ground. As it reached down to crush his head, he pulled out a dagger and shoved it into the monster's eye. Blood momentarily trickled out onto it's hand as Wilbur turned and ran once more, the agonized wails growing quiet.

After running for almost five minutes he turned and looked back. No troll. He breathed a sigh of relief. It had gotten pretty close to squishing him like a bug. Wilbur turned back around and walked face-first into a sailing Daedric warhammer.

_Crunch!_

Obviously dead, Wilbur crumpled to the ground and the Dremora that killed him merely turned around and walked away as if he _hadn't_ just crushed in somebody's friggin' face.

* * *

I kept running, the daedra all not seeing me. It was _bloody magic_. Though it gave me a rush, I didn't stop to see how much longer the potion would last. Seeing the tower ahead, I put on a burst of speed while slipping out the skeleton key I'd been given. The home of Fathis Aren, a mage who was presumably dead, stood there, alone and crumbling. Nobody had seen activity in the tower since the invasion and it was presumed that he probably couldn't live on air alone. Sometimes people have to eat, and I hear that every once in a while they need to drink as well.

The lock was a real pain in the ass, and sweat was pouring down me, my hair was drenched and hanging, and it felt like it was roughly 200 degrees outside. Almost finished with the lock. I look around real quick. Nobody there. Frantically, I finish picking the lock and toss open the door, run inside and slam it behind me. Dust billows off the wall and some of the older rock crumbles down.

My plan, well, the plan I'd been given, was pretty badass. Caleb Cosades, who had been the Spy Master before the invasion, knew all kinds of things about Cyrodííl that nobody else did. This tower I just entered was connected to Castle Bravil by a roughly fifteen-mile-long set of tunnels underneath the ground. Fathis Aren could travel between his home and the city quite freely this way. Seeing as how my job was thievery, this plan seemed very good. No epic heroism. Wouldn't have to throw my life away in some psycho plot that would send me slicing through hordes of Daedra or anything stupid like that.

I had been warned, however, that some of Aren's old pets might be still be around in the tunnels. Which is why I have this glass longsword and nifty silver dagger with me. It cost me armor, though. Actually, to tell the truth, I don't have _any_ armor.

* * *

"Is my boat ready?" The fifteen-foot-tall Daedroth-esque beast asked.

"Yes, my Lord."  
"Excellent. Bravil had better be secure by the time I get there," Menta-Na threatened. He stood up from his enormous, spiked throne and walked out of the now-black tower in the center of the Imperial City. The city had become corrupted by the presence of the daedra.

Menta-Na was truly a force to be reckoned with. He had the usual daedroth's head, except for four small, white horns that jutted out a little past where his neck and head met. Over his body was an incredibly flexible, incredibly _tough_ armor (colored a ruby red). The armor that Dremora Knights wore wasn't even this strong. A black cloth hung down in front of him from his abdomen, dangling between his reptilian legs. Gripped in one hand was a gargantuan club, with huge bone spikes sticking out of it. It took three regular daedroths to even lift it. Of course, Menta-Na wasn't really a daedroth; he was a demon created directly by Mehrunes Dagon himself.

With even more daedra packed onto his boat, he set sail for Bravil.

"Gates to Oblivion will be open once again," he told himself coolly.

* * *

Strange-looking catapult things were pulled into view. Scamps were piled on and sent screaming into the city, where the exhausted guards were forced to fight even harder against the attack. A mage was surrounded by a group of them. He looked around helplessly as they started to close in. They pounced onto him, clawing and biting and tearing and killing. With a scream the mage used his remaining energy to blow himself up, roasting the pink monsters in the process.

"Do you see that? _Please_. I'm begging you, help us!" The Count said to the Fighter's Guild Steward.

"Are you finally going to give us the financial assistance we've been asking for?" He asked back.

"Yes, anything, just _help us!_"

"Alright, everyone suit up," The steward told the guild members there.

_Thank the gods...it may not save us, but it will at least buy us some time_, the Count thought.


	3. A Killing Stroke or Three

**A Killing Stroke or Three**

Holy moly it is _dark_ down here. I cast a weak light spell I'd learned. About five feet ahead of me there wasn't anything there, as far as I could tell. Hmm...dripdrops of what I hope is water confirm to me one thing: this place is a run-down piece of crap. I slowly make my way forward and down a set of stairs which I hope isn't going to suddenly be broken. No, the staircase is short. I go forward, meet a wall, and turn and follow it until I find another wall. I go along that one and find a doorway with a rusty gate. When I pull, the gate creaks and I think I hear somebody gasp.

There shouldn't be anybody down here. Caleb himself had said nobody would be here.

I go through the gate and it looks like there's light at the end of this corridor. As I move towards it, I realize it _is _light, and is in fact a torch. I'm getting real close to this torch, and I'm able to see quite a bit, although I might've preferred not to; the hall was decorated with skulls and other pieces of skeletons. Did I enter a necromancer lair?

My question was answered with a resounding "no" a few seconds later, but the answer wasn't any better. A Xivilai swung its ebony hammer at me. As I ducked (and subsequently fell on my ass), I could see someone in a robe turning the corner down the hall to run away. The monster yanked the giant hammer out of the wall, spraying dust into my face. I hacked, essentially smacked myself in the face, and then rolled sideways a couple of inches to hit a wall.

"AH, PISS!" I screamed and rolled the other direction. But there was no impact anywhere. I looked up. No Xivilai. I then realized that the monster hadn't been a product of Oblivion, but was conjured by whoever I saw running down the hall.

Making so little sound that even I couldn't hear it, I went down the mildly-well-lit hallway after pulling out my dagger. Somebody was breathing fast, but then they suddenly stopped after I inched forwards some more. I'd forgotten about that whole thing where people _cast fucking shadows_. You're probably saying, "oh you must have fried your brain on Skooma," but this is not a mistake I normally make. That Xivilai had panicked me, and I was still trying to calm down completely.

"RAHBLAGBLAGBLAGBLAG!" A scamp leapt out from around the corner, prompting me to act as a reflex and drive the dagger into it's skull. Footsteps were kathooming and kaslapping down the hallway as the summoned scamp faded away. I turned the corner and started to run down the Gloom and Doom Tunnel. This dude was _slow._ Even though he was velocity-challenged, he almost reached a giant staircase descending even further below the ground. I yanked the back of his cloak, prompting the magician to fall on his ass. The next thing in the order of operations was for me to slam him against a wall.

The third step would normally be to put the knife right athis throat, but this time the step was stopping. The conjurer was a girl. Not a bad-looking one either. I'm sure if she wasn't in shoddy light and scared out of her wits she'd be pretty damn enticing. But this was not the case as she seemed certain I was about to pound her head into the wall until her skull turned to mush.

I would _never_ do that.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing down here, aside from...yanno...trying to kill me?"

"I think I should ask you that question, instead." She said at just a pinch of a whisper.

"Oh. Well...that's classified," I sounded like a friggin creep, "but thanks for calling me a pretty girl."

"_Classified_? Oh! Well if I'd known that I would have _never _attacked you!" She was almost shouting.

"Sh. You'll wake up your pets," I warned her. She scoffed.

"I can't keep things summoned that long, as you may have noticed."

"I'm sure that scamp would have lasted a real long time if I hadn't killed it," why am I comforting her on her abilities?

"Well that's very sweet of you," she said blankly and continued staring at me like she was trying to light my head on fire. My grip tightened on her as I realized she might be capable of that.

"How many more of you are there down here, Conjurer Lady?"

"Just a couple..."

"Are they better than you are?"

"Yes, sir, they are."

"Oh, well fantastic," nobody was supposed to be down here. I got an idea, though.

"It's been nice talking to you," I said and stroked her arm, actually casting a strong charm spell I'd made. It was basically as far as my magic went, aside from the light spell and a couple other things.

"But you should go," I continued.

"Ok..." She resigned, dejected.

"I'll meet up with you later," I promised. Chances are, if I come back through here on the way out like I'm supposed to, I _will_ see her again. She'll probably be pissed, too. I headed down the stairs while she sulked away. Finally I got to the bottom, where it's dark. I cast my light spell again and try to open the door. It's stuck on mud or something, there's about six inches of water on the ground down here. "Maybe I should knock" absurdly crosses my mind. Trying again opens the door like it should have in the first place. Rude piece of s—

Metal scrapes and I stand petrified at what I'm seeing. There's a dremora right there. It's got a Daedric short-sword (nice and sharp, too!). If I can survive this encounter, I'd love to have that. But now the demon roars and I remember to take out the glass long-sword I've been supplied with. I know its not the time to think about something really off-topic, but I can't help but think...

_I am fucking dead._

At least it kind of pertains to the situation. Enough with the sarcasm. The hellspawn runs at me and swings its sword, under which I duck and slash at his legs. My sword doesn't do anything against the armor it's wearing. I roll around to its side and leap up, slashing at its unprotected head, and the freakin thing bends over backwards and snaps back up with really disturbing agility. It side-steps away from me and then launches back, kicking me in the chest.

I _would_ have screamed and cursed and threatened, but I couldn't breathe. Instead I was glad that it was wasting time laughing at me, in spite of the humiliation it caused me. Rolling over onto my stomach was _really_ hard, but by God I did it. Got to my hands and knees, and then stood up. When I turned around the Dremora beckoned me. Just Bring It. I walked forward resting my sword on my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It made a thrust straight at my gut, and I moved aside just enough to dodge it as I deftly stabbed down into it's hand. The monster cried out and pushed me away, and just before something bad happened, it switched the blade to his other hand.

After The Switch, my light spell turned off (the aforementioned bad something). I'll try to paint a vivid picture for you. Imagine...pitch black. There you have it. I was suddenly hit in the head with brute force and tossed aside, indicating this terrible thing could see in the dark. I turned the light spell back on and turned from leaning against the wall with my shoulder to leaning on it with my back. This saved my life, as the monster's sword got stuck in the earthy wall where my head had been taking a minor vacation. _Glad I haven't met you yet_. I capitalized and swung my blade furiously, and its head neatly flopped off.

I wiped my hand slowly down my face and I suppose it probably would've looked quite comical, but I was in a land where hurt followed you everywhere, and anger rode your back and said things like "Giddy up!" and "You suck!"

_I should go back. This is obviously a set-up, or something. I don't know. There weren't supposed to be Dremora down here. Or any type of Daedra for that matter. Actually, there wasn't supposed to be _anything_ down here except for maybe mud crabs and rats. Did they figure I was a dangerous criminal that needed to be killed so that I wouldn't threaten society? I'm not _that_ bad. That can't be it. Why else would they send a lame sidekick? I bet that guy's dead now. Well, that's two strikes. One more and I quit._

I walked through the splish-splash of tunnels, killed a big mud crab on the way, and got to a weird spot. There were some torches on the wall where the ground dropped off and water went really deep. After swimming across I looked back and saw a slaughterfish spazzing out in the water. It had been so close! Damn that human! Damn him for getting away! AW CURSE THE GODS AND THEIR CRUELTY.

To end its annoying rant, I stabbed it with my brand spanky new Daedric short-sword. I turned away from the cranberry-juice water and looked at the path. It was amazing. Never would I have thought this could happen...the trail went _up_. I followed it, transfixed, disbelieving. I can actually get out of this mud hole? Hallelujah!

Trudge trudge trudge. Up and up it goes, spiraling around with little paths leading away from it here and there but I'd rather go _up_. Finally I see some brick, what used to be a wall. The wizard guy must have had to knock a hole in it to get through when he was making this passageway. Next I saw a Dremora walk out and then face the other way. I got pissed. There's your third strike. But I saw the doorway up at the top of a set of stairs past him. The secret doorway I'd been told about. I went up behind the monster and swung my sword down, making sure to turn my head away this time upon the gory impact.

I'd already gotten enough blood on me from the first one. The sword had gone really far for me to try and pull it out, so I had to kind of..._saw_ my way back out. I won't go there. Let's just say next time I'll be more careful.

After wiping demon-brain from my sword I put it back in its sheathe and went up the stairs ahead. Miniature pillars in the wall on either side of the door space could be pulled to make the indentation of the wall go down into the floor.

* * *

The last surviving member of the Bravil Fighter's Guild was standing in front of the rope bridge going to the castle. A Dremora assassin-type had gotten inside. It had two short-swords (Daedric, of course) and black clothes which were mildly thick. On its head was a red bandana, which had four green ribbons that trailed down behind and fluttered this way and that. The Fighter's Guild member, Carter, had a spear and a dagger. 

The assassin cast some type of spell on itself and then started spinning its blades around in front of it, beginning to jog towards the human who was still much out of range. It picked up speed, Carter grinned and prepared to skewer the cocky demon. Just as it reached a sprint and Carter pulled his spear back a little to thrust forward, it jumped up into the air and he missed miserably. The Fighter's Guild member was landed on by the assassin, who kicked him to launch itself off. Carter tumbled to the ground as the monster gracefully did a back-flip and landed far on the bridge without rocking it nearly at all.

The Fighter's Guild member sat there for a second, his spear was sideways under him. An idea formed. As discreetly as possible, Carter broke the spear and made it look like it had broken on accident. The human stood up and looked pleadingly at the spear pieces, as if they might fuse back together out of pity. His face hardened as he tossed down the broken weapon and reached to get his dagger. The assassin started to smoothly stroll towards his prey from his position, nearly halfway across the mildly lengthy bridge. It's eyes widened and it tried to run to the end of the bridge, but Carter cut one of the ropes to hold it.

The assassin screamed and grabbed the rope on the side, dangling off the uneven bridge.

"Don't let go!" Carter called out in mock-concern. He smiled devilishly as he slowly started to put his dagger to the other rope. The demon screamed again, this time in helpless frustration; if it let go, it'd break it's legs on the rock below and possibly hit its head hard enough to kill it. The human slashed through the rope.

Assassin and Carter alike screamed, one in serious horror, the other enjoying his acting prowess.

_Slice_

"Ooooh, yowch!" Carter said as the monster smacked into the rock wall of the pit, bashing its head violently against a jutting out piece of rock. Half the head stayed squished up onto the wall at a slight angle while the lower half of its head and the conjoined body fell to the bottom of the ravine with a splunch (combination of a splash and crunch). The monsters eyes stared blankly ahead as the bandana tails continued to float in the breeze; blood trickled from the ends of the tails. Before Carter knew what was happening, his head had been bashed into a post and he was taken away in a daze.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Garrett." I said as quietly yet cheerily as I could. How am I supposed to show this girl I don't mean any harm? The Wizard's old bed room had been transformed into her holding room. Obviously the Daedra had no idea about the secret passage. 

"How'd you get in here?" The seventeen-year-old asked. I pointed back over my shoulder at the secret doorway.

"Why didn't anybody tell me about that?" She asked incredulously.

"Nevermind. I have a quick question for you. Why the hell was I dragged out of my house to come here and save you? What are they planning on doing? Why are you so special, other than that you're the Count's daughter?"

"That's not a quick question, genius."

"Yeah, well, you know," I sighed.

"Basically, I'm Cyrodíílic royalty. If they can mix royal Daedra blood with mine, a gate can be opened again through a procedure I don't want to describe."

"Daedra have no gender," I said blankly.

"Literally mix blood."

"Well they sound kind of fucked," an observation that apparently made her mad.

"And _why_ is that?"

"What kind of royalty do they have here?"

"Menta Na?" She asked in annoyance.

"_Menta Na_ is here?"

"Not yet, no."

"Oh, well good. I can get you out of here, but I wanna see a few things first. Follow me, _don't make a sound_. Stay far enough back that you're not right by me, but not far enough that I won't notice if you go missing, ok?"

"Uh, ok?" She asked but I was already heading for the door.

I picked the lock quickly and looked through the keyhole. Didn't look like there was anybody there. The door opened very smoothly and mercifully quiet. Ahead, the hall only turned left, which was good for me. I wouldn't have to worry about two guards in two different places. Invisibly, I looked around the corner. A guard was there, but the thing wasn't wearing a helmet. Instead, it was taking different food from a platter, trying it, spitting it out and gagging, then complaining to itself about how bad our food is. I took out my dagger and held it tip-first. A turn and throw later, the Dremora found that there was something lodged quite deep in its head. When it turned to go to the infirmary, it simply tripped into a wall and slid down to the floor. I started sneaking down the hallway.

The girl following me is namedElizabeth. I suddenly stopped and went back over to her.

"Why did they pick you? Why aren't they going to use your father instead? I mean, being the Count...he's probably kind of more royal or something, isn't he? And why are there Daedric guards in here when the Daedra are still fighting outside the city, trying to get in?"

"Everybody who can fight is out fighting, the ones who can't were brought into the castle. A few of the Dremora managed to sneak into the castle. The few bodyguards in here were no match for them."

"Well, what about your dad?" I asked. This question piqued her interest in the floor, as she couldn't seem to look away from it.

"He and my brother managed not to get seen by the Dremora at first. While they were still hidden, they dressed up as regular people, and then went to fight them. They died, the Daedra have no idea it was them. I told them my dad left before they attacked."

The door the head-shotted Dremora had fallen by opened a little and hit its body.

"Come on!" I hissed. We dashed back to the room and I realized as we closed the door behind us that I'd put the wall back up behind me. Loud thumping was coming down the hallway, along with this weird..._scraping_ noise. Elizabeth yanked one of the pillars back and the door went down. She jumped through, already grabbing the pillar by the time I was halfway to the door. The door behind me sounded like it basically exploded, and the young royalty screamed and shoved the pillar.

I stopped at the wall, and turned around.

"Oh, Jesus," were the only words that seemed to fit here. Menta Na stood a few feet away, seething. I noticed a line was trailing behind him and figured out that the scraping noise I'd heard was him dragging his club along in boredom. Another thing I realized was that this probably meant Bravil had fallen: I was doomed.

_Well, I'm dead either way. Let's see if the guy can bleed._

I threw my short-sword at him.

"AUGH!" Menta Na cried out.Holy shit! It hit him right in the eye! The monster swung around blindly and got an indirect hit, but it still knocked me out.

* * *

A/N: Hope this was okey dokey. Hope too many words didn't get smushed together, although some were supposed to be. Like dripdrop. Warning: As of next chapter, this'll be M. I should switch it to M now, but eh. What-_ev_. 


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